Her bed, a realm unruly

“There weren't that many visitors,” she says “truly.”

Her bed, a silk-sheeted shrine

“It’s where hearts and bodies align in the divine.”

Her bed: a place where two passions conspire

“Ever heard about a thing called desire?”

Dreams and nightmares reflect hopes and fears

“They say wait till you’re married, give or take a few years.”

Behind closed doors, things get intense

A sock on the door means DND- 

commonsense.

Look at you now, reading a femme fatale construction

Possibly imagining this framed seduction

Through these words, you are a fly on her wall

A blind Peeping Tom, cat got your catcall? 

And before you deem this poem unnecessary

The thing is, her bed is her sanctuary

A Tempurpedic Divinity

Where she owns her femininity 

So answer this question candidly

Go with whatever answer comes naturally 

Were you spying

Or were you objectifying?